


the poet and the beat

by eleanor_lavish



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-15
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He gets asked about Drake in interviews sometimes - not a lot, but some - and he always says things like "we're good, it's new, we're taking it slow".  It not until the end of August that he realizes that it's not actually that new anymore; he's been dating Drake for almost nine months.  "That's, like, a <b>baby's worth</b> of dating," he slurs at Lil one night, drunk on too many cocktails from a fancy hotel bar.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	the poet and the beat

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://milliejupiter.livejournal.com/profile)[**milliejupiter**](http://milliejupiter.livejournal.com/), who won it with an _exceedingly_ generous donation to DonorsChoose. Mollie, I have no idea if this is at all what you wanted, but when you said that Drake could be what Adam needed this summer, it seemed to me like what he needed was good sex, lots of laughing and some badly needed clarity about himself. The inspiriation for the prompt was a favorite song of Millie's and mine, the Kings of Leon's "Use Somebody". (The title is from that song.) The finished product is a mashup of that song, and another of my favorite KoL songs, "Be Somebody". Thanks to [](http://schuyler.livejournal.com/profile)[**schuyler**](http://schuyler.livejournal.com/) for the beta, and to [](http://yeats.livejournal.com/profile)[**yeats**](http://yeats.livejournal.com/) for the kick in the ass to get this done!

  
Adam doesn't think much of him at first - just another scruffy, twinky boy in a half shirt and too-tight jeans, cute enough that he lets his eyes linger for a second, but not enough to hold his attention from the glittery boys on the dance floor. But when Adam needs another drink, the only spot open at the bar is next to him, Adam squeezing his tall frame between warm bodies, and this time, when the boy turns around, Adam is close enough to see his eyes, bright and clear with lashes so long they cast shadows over his high cheekbones. Adam's been around the block enough times not to fall for pretty eyes, but the guy is also smiling - a toothy grin, guileless, miles from the sharks teeth smiles of most of the boys Adam knows, and Adam finds that he can't help but smile back.

"I'm Drake," the boy says, holding up his beer in greeting. It's loud enough that Adam has to lean in a little to hear him. He leans in a little more than he needs too; Drake smells like wood and paint and sweat. Boy things.

"Adam," he says over the pounding of the music, and Drake's smile reaches all the way to his gorgeous eyes. "Wanna dance?" he asks, in that voice that means 'are you interested?' and yes. Hell yes, Adam wants to dance.

*

It's kind of nice that he has a few weeks of being a regular guy before Adam has to tell Drake about Idol and Hollywood week. Not that they do much those first few weeks beside fuck and watch bad TV. He manages to keep Drake away from his normal circle of friends. They've been telling him to get out there, to meet new people, but somehow once he has, he doesn't much feel like sharing. They hole up in Adam's apartment instead; Drake keeps the same artist's hours as Adam - late nights into early mornings - and Adam gets used to waking up with someone sprawled across him in the midday sun.

It's been a long time since he's had this. He can't help but think about Brad sometimes, even though he tells himself this isn't the same. That _he_ isn't the same.

One morning the tiny pang in his heart that says 'something's not right here' is gone, and Drake blinks up at him sleepily, smiling, and Adam feels butterflies in his stomach for the first time in over a year.

It's a little terrifying, but Adam lives for terrifying.

"Hey, so," he says, and Drake raises his eyebrows. "I might have this TV thing that'll take up some of my time soon."

To his credit, Drake only laughs for about thirty seconds, and it's more delighted than mocking. "Seriously, what the hell are you going to do when they try to make you sing _country_?" he giggles, and Adam pokes him in the side until he finds the ticklish spot right under Drake's ribs. Tickling descends into making out very quickly (which was Adam's goal, to be honest), but as they're drifting off again, Drake murmurs, "You're gonna be great."

Adam cards his fingers through Drake's hair and stays awake a while longer, thinking about country music and how to spice it up a little. Maybe Drake could give him pointers.

*

The week before Idol starts back up, Drake has a big art show in Venice Beach. Adam spends half of his time running around making sure the space is set up, and the other half rubbing calming circles over Drake's back.

"You know you have other things to be worrying about right now," Drake says once. "You don't have to babysit me."

"I like babysitting you," Adam insists. "Except, you know. In a non-creepy way."

Drake laughs and shakes his head, but a minute later he leans in closer and tucks his face into the crook of Adam's neck. "Thank you," he breathes softly, and Adam smiles and pulls him closer.

*

He doesn't use the word 'boyfriend' until way after the Idol insanity is underway. He's not sure why - he's not seeing anyone else, and neither is Drake. They spend at least four nights a week together, and they rack up one hell of a phone bill when Drake spends a week in Europe. Drake even meets his mom when they drive up the coast for a long weekend. "This is Drake," he says, and the rest is implied but never stated.

But as they head into the top 13 and Adam feels more and more like this is it, like he might actually fucking pull this off, he wants Drake there at the Kodak, cheering him on. Maybe it's a little egotistical ("a little?" Cassidy shoots back, eyebrows raised), but Adam knows he always does better with an adoring audience. All the other contestants have friends, partners, cousins, adorable kids surrounding their families and Adam thinks it's only fair that he gets Drake. The producers aren't so sure. "Friends and family, it's only fair," Adam says, and promises Drake will wear a real shirt on camera.

"It's not like I don't want to be there," Drake says to him late one night, Adam's phone pressed to his ear in his bedroom in the mansion. "I don't want to cause trouble..."

"What trouble could you cause?" Adam asks, and Drake snorts on the other end of the line.

"They're watching you now," he reminds Adam, like Adam needs any reminding. The pictures of him and Brad hit the mainstream media a week before, and it seems like they're still picking up steam.

"You'll be my 'friends and family', baby, come on," Adam wheedles. He's a little stung that Drake needs this much convincing.

"Look," Drake says, his voice a little too slow, a little too even, "if there are other people you want to have that seat, I would... It would be okay."

Adam opens his mouth, then closes it again. They never really talked about the pictures, other than Drake's assessment that Adam needs to wear mesh more often, and now Adam's wondering how much shit Drake must be getting about this from people he knows. "I want you there," Adam says almost vehemently. "I want _you_. If Kris gets to have his pretty little wife, I get to have my boyfriend. Okay?"

"Okay," Drake says, his accent pulling the word out into three syllables, almost four. He only does that when he's smiling, and Adam lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Should we work out a signal for when I throw my panties on stage?"

"Oh, baby," Adam purrs, "If you love me, you won't be wearing any underwear at all."

Drake cracks up, and Adam falls back against his crisp white sheets.

*

He has three months of competition where he doesn't think about anything but singing and arranging and choreo and making sure his hair looks fabulous every week and not saying the wrong thing in front of cameras.

Drake is there for almost every performance, and his voice is lilting and calming on the other end of Adam's phone at night, but mostly Adam doesn't think about anything but American Idol.

When he lets himself dwell on it, it's the most selfish thing he's ever done.

He's not sure whether to be mortified or proud. Mostly he's just exhausted.

*

Adam doesn't win.

He's honestly happy for Kris - seriously and totally happy - but at the end of the night, when he's finally back to his hotel room, he lets himself get a little broody. Maybe if he'd done what they asked and toned it down... or maybe toned it _up_. He sighs heavily and lets his coat drop to the floor (Cass will forgive him, he's sure), and he's about to just fall face down into his bed, makeup be damned, when there's a knock. He almost doesn't answer it, but he's close enough to the door that he hazards a peek through the peephole.

Drake is on the other side, bottle of Jack in one hand and a shiteating grin on his face. "Come on, Lambert, I can see your huge, hulking shadow in there," he says, way too loud for three in the morning.

He opens the door just enough to pull Drake through it and closes it by pressing Drake against the inside of it, crowding him until there's not even an inch of space between them. "My huge, hulking shadow is very glad to see you," he says.

"Good," Drake drawls, and Adam can smell the liquor on him, spicy and sharp. "Thought you could use some cheering up."

"Winning was never the objective," Adam says with mock seriousness, and Drake nods and slips his hands up Adam t-shirt and around his waist.

"Sure it wasn't, baby. You just keep feeding me those soundbites."

"Fuck you," Adam says, laughing, and Drake leans up on his toes to nip at Adam's jaw.

"Second place isn't that bad," Drake says, "take it from me."

Adam almost misses the little bitter edge to his voice. "Oh, baby," he says, pained, but Drake just bites down hard on his throat, sucks hard enough to leave a bruise, and Adam picks him up and slams him back into the door, Drake's legs wrapping around his waist. "You're not second place."

"Hey, it's cool. Winner by default, but I still get to wear the shiny crown," Drake says, and pulls Adam into a kiss so intense it leaves him reeling.

It's barely eight am when the hotel phone rings with his wake-up call, and Drake curses a blue streak as Adam hunts blearily for his iPhone. "Is this going to happen every morning?"

"Quite possibly," Adam groans, and Drake buries his head under the covers.

"Fuck glamorous; this rockstar life is bullshit," come his muffled reply and Adam hits him with a pillow.

"Hey," Adam says half an hour later. They're both mostly dressed, and Adam has a full day of interviews ahead of him, then a meeting with 19E, and _then_ he has to approve a publicist. "It's actually going to be pretty busy for a while." He's not looking at Drake when he says it, which he knows is a cop out, but whatever. "And then tour --"

"Hey, I know," Drake smiles, and leans over to kiss his cheek. "I'm just a shitty morning person, is all. We'll figure it out."

Adam's not sure if what he's feeling is relief or frustration, but when Drake reaches over to take his hand, Adam clings to him like a lifeline.

*  
 _  
from drake <allsaintsdrake@gmail.com>  
to adam <wickedboy82@gmail.com>  
date Fri, July 3, 2009 at 6:19 PM  
subject ain't no sunshine?_

 _hey baby,_

 _hear you're getting rain, rain, rian up there! bet you miss la now, huh?_

 _miss you,  
d_

*  
 _  
from adam <wickedboy82@gmail.com>  
to drake <allsaintsdrake@gmail.com>  
date Wed, July 8, 2009 at 11:32 PM  
subject holy shit!_

 _if this tour goes like it has been ,we wont need to buy any sex toys ever again._

 _or bras._

 _see you sooooon!  
love, a_

 _*_

 _from drake <allsaintsdrake@gmail.com>  
to adam <wickedboy82@gmail.com>  
date Weds, July 22, 2009 at 10:07 AM  
subject flight delay_

 _hey baby,_

 _flight is delayed forty minutes, but I will be there asap!! how many sex tosy do you have now? You'd better not have given them all to matty g..._

 _xoxo  
d_

 _ps how thot is it in tx right now?_

 _*_

 _from adam <wickedboy82@gmail.com>  
to drake <allsaintsdrake@gmail.com>  
date Weds, July 22, 2009 at 10:31 AM  
subject RE: flight delay_

 _  
if american airlines cockblocks me i will be sooooo pissed. >:(_

 _not sure i'll be able to pick u up - just come right 2 the hotel. if i'm not there, just settle in. all the good stuff's in the red suitcase. ;)_

 _xxx  
a_

 _ps hot. but you still have to wear a shirt to the show, kiddo._

 _*_

 _from drake <allsaintsdrake@gmail.com>  
to adam <wickedboy82@gmail.com>  
date Weds, July 22, 2009 at 2:54 PM  
subject RE: RE: flight delay_

 _1\. youre a bitch who is late._

 _2\. shirtsare so last year._

 _3\. do you know if theese handcffs have keys? pls say yes_

 _4\. typoing 1 handed isshard._

 _d_

*

Dallas is fantastic. Adam has been riding the high of being on tour for just long enough that the giddy edges have started to fray, and he had no idea how much he needed a few days off and a big bed that doesn't move and _Drake_ until he's stuck in an interview and Drake sends a ridiculous message that he's _trapped in Adam's hotel room in handcuffs_ and Adam is out the door faster than he count. Kris catches his eye on the way out and Adam just shrugs, grinning maniacally; Kris gives him an appraising look and big thumbs up.

He does, in fact, have keys to that particular pair of handcuffs, but he doesn't let Drake know that until two hours and three orgasms later.

"So, tour's awesome?" Drake asks around a yawn. He's snuggled up into Adam's side, and Adam knows he has, like, twelve more things he's supposed to do today, but he really doesn't care.

"Absolutely," Adam says, and doesn't mention the fact that he's worried about the cold Matt has and whether he's going to catch it, or about how he spent the first week a little motion sick from trying to sleep on the bus, or about the creepy fangirls who somehow got his phone number. "Might get a new phone," is all he can manage, and Drake nods and drifts off.

*

Adam is fifteen minutes into his rant about artistic integrity and the writing process and how 19E wouldn't know a good club song if it bit them _in the face_ when Neil cuts him off with a "whoa, whoa, I do not honestly give a shit anymore."

"You _asked_ ," Adam bites out.

"I think my exact words were 'how's the album going, big brother?' And I am very sorry I opened that particular can of worms, man."

"Well fuck you." It's been a long fucking week, and Adam hasn't slept for most of it, and he's had to miss two signings and fans are calling him a bitch for it and his throat is starting to hurt which is _not okay_ , and Adam really needs to just _be a whiny diva_ for a minute.

"Isn't that a boyfriend area?" Neil asks wryly when Adam lays that argument out.

"No, that's. He's got his own life, Neil. He doesn't need to hear me whine about how hard it is to be a rockstar on tour." Adam wrinkles his nose at the thought. He tries to keep his conversations with Drake light and funny and occasionally NC-17. Talking about how Scott is driving him up the goddamned wall with his insistence on schooling them all on 'the classics' is not what Drake signed up for.

"But I do need to hear about it?"

"Sucks to be the little brother. Also, what the fuck else do you have to do?" Adam shrugs, and Neil hangs up on him.

He thinks maybe he _should_ call Drake, but a conversation about how 19E has structured his contract to make it impossible to take a piss without scheduling it first seems like something Drake wouldn't really care about. He goes to Kris instead, and they stay up in the back lounge until two in the morning coming up with ways to kill their producers and flee to South America. "You could build us a house!" Adam says, giggling and a little punchy.

"Damn straight I could!" Kris nods. "You could decorate it, but I'm not sure where we'd find enough crushed red velvet in Buenos Aires."

"Thanks for listening," Adam says, curling into Kris's side and sticking his tongue out at Matt when he darts in to get his DS Lite.

"Any time, man. I know Katy and Drake have got to be tired of hearing about this crap, so it's a good thing we have each other."

"Yeah," Adam says, and totally ignores the flair of guilt in his belly.

*

Maybe it's the myth of _Queer As Folk_ , but Adam thinks it's totally appropriate that the first time a boy manages to sneak into his room and drape himself naked over his big hotel bed is Pittsburgh. "Oh, wow, okay," is really all he can think to say for a long minute while the boy - dark-haired and tiny - grins at him and clinks his tongue piercing against his teeth.

"I'm Jesse," the boy says, and strokes his cock once, twice, "and this is for you."

Adam has never in his life been that embarrassed. Nor has he ever been that hard, that fast. "You should. This is not a great idea," he stammers, even thought his cock is screaming _why are you mentally challenged?_. Jesse shakes his head and grins and moves to get up off the bed and Adam literally flees back out into the hallway, fumbling with his phone to call security.

The hotel falls over itself apologizing but Adam waves them off with a smile and 'what can you do?' shrug. They offer to move him to another room, once Jesse is dressed and removed from the building, but Adam waves that offer off too. When he gets back to the room, it seems strangely empty, and the bed is still a little rumpled from where a _naked boy was sitting on it, holy shit_. Adam is not, in real life, the sex god he tries to portray onstage, and he can't remember ever being that blatantly propositioned. He could have done it too, could have fucked this boy through the mattress, made him scream so loud Matt would have had to pound on the wall to tell him to keep it down.

Adam runs the heel of his hand down the length of his cock and pulls out his phone.

"So," he says when Drake answers, still wide awake on California time. "Funny story."

"So you want to know if you should have," Drake says when Adam finishes.

"No, I would never - "

"Baby, this is not the last time you're going to get a cute boy throwing himself at you," Drake says, smiling. "Also, you are totally jerking off right now."

"I am not! I will have you know I am fully dressed!" Adam says, even though he is totally still palming his dick through his jeans, a gentle slide of friction that is keeping him hard but not doing much to push him closer to the edge.

"Did you want to?" Drake asks, and Adam is almost pissed about how matter-of-fact he's being about this. Brad would have already made three biting comments and possibly hung up.

"No?" Adam says, and wow, that doesn't even sound convincing to _himself_. "He was really cute?" he tries, and Drake snorts. "Next time, you'll come out with me on tour. We'll tear this country up coast to coast."

"Okay, and what do I do with myself for the fifteen hours a day you're working? Or am I mainly there to make you feel less shitty?"

"I just _miss_ you," Adam whines.

"I miss you too. If we're going to have this kind of relationship - "

"I don't _want_ this kind of relationship," Adam cuts in. "And I don't want to sleep with strangers just because you're three thousand miles away."

"You don't want to _want_ to sleep with strangers," Drake corrects him. Adam sighs. "Look, baby, I want to be there. But I can't just follow you around. That would suck. Mostly for me."

"Yeah," Adam says, petulant.

"Here's what I can do right now. I can say thank you for not fucking that random twink, even though I would have paid good money to see that whole scene. And I can say we're doing the best we can. And I can say take off your damn clothes so we can at least relieve some of this tension."

Adam barks out a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Seriously, naked, come on."

"You too?"

"Well, I'm in the bathroom at a Mexican restaurant, so I might have to just talk you through this one."

"You are a sick, hilarious person," Adam says, but he's already popping the button open on his jeans.

*

He gets asked about Drake in interviews sometimes - not a lot, but some - and he always says things like "we're good, it's new, we're taking it slow". It not until the end of August that he realizes that it's not actually that new anymore; he's been dating Drake for almost nine months. "That's, like, a _baby's worth_ of dating," he slurs at Lil one night, drunk on too many cocktails from a fancy hotel bar.

She laughs at him. "A baby's worth of dating is eighteen to life, darlin'. Besides, I don't think it counts if you've barely been in a room with him for half of that."

Maybe that's it, he thinks. Maybe it's the distance that is making this all seem so slow and easy and not-quite-real.

"You in love with him?" she asks, gently but pointed, and Adam frowns into his glass.

"I'm not _not_ in love with him," he says, but he knows that's not an answer. She doesn't push it, but she raises her eyebrows.

"It's okay to have a casual thing, you know. It's not a bad thing."

"No, I know," Adam says, but he's not _good_ at casual things. He good at all-or-nothing, he's good at losing himself inside someone else, at falling asleep spooned together, at _being there_. "I just feel like, if I hadn't done Idol, or if I'd gotten kicked off early or something, like maybe we would be better."

She tilts her head. "Would _you_ be better?"

Adam is tired. He is bone-fucking-exhausted every day, but he wakes up on a moving tour bus most mornings to the smell of coffee and dirty socks and he spends his days writing _music_ and his night _performing_ and he's never been happier in his life, deep down.

"No," he says, and she nods. They drink in companionable silence for a while before Adam says, "It's not fair."

"Life's not fair," Lil shoots at him. "Sometimes you make choices. Sometimes you tell people they're grand plans, they're bigger than you, but sometimes you leave your kids behind to go do something you love and it's just a little bit selfish, you know? Sometimes being selfish for a little while is not the end of the world." She grins at him wryly and he tips his glass to hers with a clink.

"How'd you get so smart?" he asks.

"Growing up real fast will do that to you," she answers and Adam wonders how much he's grown up in the last nine months.

*

He's only off the tour for a few weeks when Adam realizes that he was totally kidding himself when he thought life would finally slow down. He's back in LA, in the studio for most of the daylight hours (and a lot of the non-daylight ones), pushing and pushing to get the album out on deadline. Kris is across town being just as busy, and Alli texts him hourly - short, misspelled missives about how much looping blows or what she had for lunch or pictures of her making funny faces. They don't see each other much, though. Adam barely sees anyone, Drake included, and when he comes home all he really wants to do is faceplant on his bed. Drake brings him warm tea with honey and scratches the back of his neck with blunt fingernails.

"Hard day at the office, dear?" he asks, and Adam groans and rolls over.

"Thanks," he says, taking the mug of tea and cradling it to his chest.

"Bad session?" he asks.

"Great session, actually. Just really tired."

"Guess you don't want to go down to Santa Monica? There's an art exhibit at this little place on Colorado," Drake asks hopefully, and Adam chews on his lower lip. Going out means lots of people, which means he has to think about security, and autographs, and mostly he wants to put on his PJs and watch Project Runway. "You could go to Fred Segal Rocks for some new bling?" he throws in, even though Adam really doesn't need another silver chain.

"Rain check?" he asks and Drake nods, but his smile dims considerably. Drake gets up to go into the kitchen and Adam closes his eyes. "This isn't working, is it," he says, not really a question.

"Not really," Drake sighs from the doorway, and when Adam looks up, Drake is leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. He doesn't look mad, and that makes Adam feel even worse.

"I want to be here for you, I really do, I'm just." They stare at each other for a moment. "I don't know what to say," Adam says hoarsely, and he takes a sip of his tea, willing the tightness in his throat away.

Drake shrugs. "I thought it might be different and it's not," he says.

"It's just going to get worse," Adam says, because that's certainly becoming clear. "I can't be in two places at once and I have to focus on my ca -" he trails off, and Drake snorts at what is probably a horrified look on his face. "I cannot believe I've become that guy," Adam says, eyes wide.

"I can," Drake smiles at him. "You have to focus on your career, and I'm just - "

"You're _amazing_ ," Adam cuts in vehemently.

"Oh, I know," Drake replies. "I'm a patient tour widow and a freak in the sack, baby. But you have an idea about what being a good boyfriend is, and you can't be that right now."

"I really can't," Adam says helplessly.

"Okay," Drake nods.

"I think we just broke up," Adam says, his voice quiet in the space between them.

"I think we did," Drake agrees and crosses the room to sit next to him on the bed. "You okay?"

"I'm... yeah. You okay?"

"This sucks, but yeah. I kind of saw it coming."

"I'm sorry," Adam says, and Drake leans in to rest his head on Adam's shoulder.

"I know."

*

"You know, this isn't what I expected when you said you wanted to do a boys night," Cassidy says, shaking his head at the spread of dim sum and fresh fruit and bottles of wine on Adam's coffee table.

"Whatever, Tim Gunn awaits, bitch," Adam retorts, folding himself into the comfiest corner of the sofa and picking up the remote. "Sit."

"You have one day off this week, and you want to spend it like a boring housewife," Cassidy chides, but he's already filling his plate with dumplings.

They pause the show during commercials so Adam can refill his plate and Cass can get his breath from ranting at the screen. "Try the pinot," Adam says, passing it over.

"Please tell me this is just a phase," Cassidy blinks at him.

"Man cannot live by whiskey alone, gorgeous," Adam laughs at him. He's branching out, trying new things. Ryan recommended a few wines, and Adam has the cash to try them these days, so why not?

"Says you," Cassidy shoots back and Adam laughs again. "You're doing good," he says, and it's not a question.

Adam nods. He feels like he's doing good. He's doing _great_. Everything is about to change again, and he's learning to enjoy the ride.

"You ready to get back on the horse?" Cassidy asks, grinning slyly. "Because I met this boy on Venice Beach who would make you absolutely weak in the knees, man - "

"No horses," Adam cuts him off. "No horses, no boys, no weak knees."

"Man cannot live by masturbation alone," Cassidy says serenely.

"Trust me, I'm not signing up to be a monk, but I'm not on the market. This isn't a life I can share right now, not without splitting myself in two. I think I'm out of the game for a while."

"Unless there's a hot naked twink in your hotel room again?"

Adam picks up the remote and knocks it against Cassidy's thigh with a grin. "Oh, that's an entirely different game, honey, and I will play that one to _win_."


End file.
